


Truisms

by AlamoGirl80



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-19
Updated: 2008-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlamoGirl80/pseuds/AlamoGirl80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When assumptions are forgotten, when the fairytale platitudes fall away, when the smoke clears - the Truth can shine through. A series of short fics and vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undermine - Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Sci-Fi's Tin Man, is characters or plots contained therein. This is for pure enjoyment of the author and readers. I promise not to damage the characters too much, and will return them to Van Sickle and Mitchell all shiny and clean when I'm through.
> 
> A/N: This is my attempt at a compilation of one and two shot ficlets, and vignettes. It seems to be my lot in life that I can do really well with short stories, but long multichapter stories with complex plots dwindle in non-update land for too long. These will mostly deal with Cain and DG, although I will dabble with ficlets surrounding the other characters as well.  
> Special Thanks: Unending love and margarita-soaked thanks to Celia Stanton – beta, prompt squee-er and general writing coach extraordinaire. Without whom nothing would be updated, on pretty much anything I write. To Meredith Paris, for her continued beta support, and for whom I created the bad guy in this story – Cole. He belongs to you, Becky!
> 
> And to the incomparable piaffe417 – whose L&amp;O:CI story "Truisms" is the reason I started this. Her title fit my idea to a tee, and while hers is a "connections through time" type story, and not a series of vignettes like mine, it is completely exemplary and inspiring. Thanks for the title inspiration and continued reviews, piaffe!

“_Sometimes we let affection go unspoken, sometimes we let our love go unexpressed, sometimes we can't find words to tell our feelings, especially towards those we love the best.” - Unknown_

The so-called ‘shining city on the hill’ was looking more and more beaten down and tarnished lately. Two annuals of dissent and hostilities; two annuals of attempts at reconciliation, and efforts to mend the wounds of a county ripped down the middle had taken their toll. The buildings bore the scars of mortar attacks. Internal terrorist bombings that scorched their feet where car bombs had exploded marked the buildings’ cornerstones with soot, and great chunks of sidewalk were missing. Scaffolding checkered the sides of the high rises, the only evidence of a city on the mend. The fighting had ended a few months ago, and the citizens of Central City clung tightly to a tenuous thread of peace that had been too long out of their grasp.

After spending most of the previous year in the city, DG was becoming used to the cavernous surroundings of the tall buildings. Unlike the Southern Palace, getting things in the city was relatively easy. As long as the shops were open. During the height of the hostilities, most of the populous evacuated the city at the Crown’s behest, fleeing for the supposed safety of the surrounding countryside.

The royal family, of course, stayed behind to coordinate allied movements against the uprising that either still remained loyal to the fallen Witch, or simply blamed the deposed Queen and her family for their woes. DG had underestimated the number of people in the Zone that would not fold quietly back under the Crown’s auspices; how many of them truly believed that had it not been for Queen Lavender’s daughters, the O.Z. would have remained a little slice of heaven.

DG had fallen into her role of Princess (albeit with some complaint at first) and attempted to help her family mend their broken country. But all the Risk board games in the world couldn’t prepare her for the realities of war. The youngest princess was christened into the civil war, literally by fire, as the city around her erupted in explosions and bloodshed.

After a tentative truce had been arduously hammered out, the O.Z. seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The skies, which had remained tinted with the ichor of smoke and gun powder, finally found the blue that had been missing for so long and the suns peeked out from behind the retreating gloom.

DG smiled as she felt the suns’ rays warming her head as she walked down the street. Most of the city’s tenants had returned and set about repairing their homes and businesses. The streets again bustled with activity and DG couldn’t help but feel like the worst was over.

_Assuming the worst is over is usually when the ground falls out from under your feet_, intoned a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like the tall, steely eyed shadow that loomed behind her. She rolled her eyes. It was stark evidence to DG of the toll the war had taken, when even her inner voice was as cynical and wary as the Tin Man who was two steps behind her at all times. But his presence was intimately connected to her being. Something else she could thank the war for…

DG heard his heavy boots quicken as he closed the gap between them.

“You’re dawdling,” Cain said, leaning down and tilting his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“I’m enjoying being outdoors. There’s a difference.” DG smiled as she saw a flower shop employee tote a huge basket of purple and yellow flowers to a sidewalk stand. She readjusted the messenger sack slung over her shoulder, straightening the light blue blouse she wore over her dark, long skirt and boots.

Cain glanced down the street before turning back to her, his mouth set with what DG knew to be consternation. “We were supposed to be back at headquarters fifteen minutes ago.”

“So, we’re a little late.” DG stopped and plucked one of the flowers from the stand and breathed in its scent. She tossed a coin to the vendor. “I haven’t been able to stroll these streets in a ye–_annual_, Cain. Let me enjoy it.”

She turned to him, holding the flower just under her chin. She watched his eye start to soften, the lines around the edges relaxing a bit. Cain tipped his hat back with one finger and sighed.

“It’s been tough being cooped up in that high rise for so long. But even with a ceasefire in place, these streets aren’t safe for you, Princess.” Cain’s eyes twitched toward the two guards that had walked a few yards ahead of DG. There were two more guards bringing up the rear of the group. “So humor me, kiddo. We need to be getting back.”

DG quirked her mouth and breathed a resigned sigh through her nose. She knew he was right. He always was. Cain took her sigh as acquiescence, his lips tilting to the half smile that DG had missed seeing. He took her by the elbow and started leading her back down the walkway.

For a few moments, DG considered her position: on the arm of a tall, striking man in a rumpled fedora. In another time, they’d have looked like a couple, walking arm in arm down the street of Central City. DG allowed her imagination to wander to a time and place where Cain might have invited her out for a walk – escorting her in a way very much like the couples she saw in the streets – simply enjoying the fact that they were together.

The tiny smile on her lips fell, though, when she stole a glance at the Tin Man next to her. His face was alert, cautious and ever scanning his surroundings. Not the relaxed countenance of a man strolling down the promenade with his girl. _Not that she was his girl_…of course.

DG was mulling over her little wayward fantasy when a young man came running up to the group. The guards suddenly closed rank around the princess and DG felt herself being jerked behind Cain’s bulk as he immediately drew his pistol. She had an odd sense of déjà vu: Cain’s free hand protectively holding her behind him while he angled his body toward the oncoming threat; very much the same way he’d done in the Realm of the Unwanted, a lifetime ago.

“Highness!” The young man slowed to a halt as weapons were drawn on him. Slowly he pulled his jacket aside and revealed the insignia of the Crown on his breast: the swirl that reminded DG of the weather symbol for a hurricane. “The Queen sent me with an urgent message.”

Cain nodded to the other guards to stand down, and DG moved from behind him to accept the piece of paper. The messenger held onto it.

“Actually, Your Highness, this is meant for Mr. Cain.”

DG blinked at him for a second before withdrawing her hand. “Cain, you’ve got mail.”

Cain was holstering his weapon and looked up, confused. He stepped forward and accepted the paper, opening it gingerly. DG moved in close to him, reading over his arm before she was aware that he might not appreciate her reading his mail. She couldn’t make out much, but she noticed Cain’s shoulders tense, the set of his jaw tightening and his eyes going dark.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Cain’s tone was stony. “The fighting in the east last month was situated around The Deeps, our maximum security prison. It’s built into a cave in the ground.” He folded the paper and put it inside his duster. “One of the rebel factions used explosives to blow an escape route out of the ground near it. Most of the prisoners escaped.”

DG chewed her lip. “What happened to the rest?”

Cain took her by the arm and started guiding her briskly down the street, his demeanor bristling. “Dead. Shot on sight by the remaining guards.”

“I’m guessing by the way you’re _dragging_ me,” she pulled her arm out of his grip, and he paused as she rubbed her elbow, “that those still at large are pretty dangerous.”

Cain’s eyes were icy, though he seemed to realize he’d been nearly hauling her by one arm. He reached out again and took her wrist, gentler this time but still insistent. “You guessed right, Princess. C’mon.”

“What kind of convicts are we talking about here, Cain?”

Cain didn’t look at her, but kept his hurried pace; his longer legs forcing DG to trot beside him. The headquarters where the royal family had been living for the past annual was in sight and he pulled DG across the street.

Just as they entered the foyer of the hotel-style building, DG thought she heard him answer her, but his voice was almost a growl.

“The worst kind, kiddo. The worst kind.”

* * *

It had been a long day, and Cain tilted his neck to the side to pop the kinks. The day had consisted of meetings: incessant, droning, never-ending meetings. The Princess and the Royal Advisor – though with his hair still sticking out every which way, Cain couldn’t see him as anything but Glitch – been summoned to several buildings downtown to work on getting the city back up and running. Most of the public works were reinstated, but the question of law enforcement had brought them to the site of the old Tin Man academy.

Cain felt a wave of nostalgia when he entered ahead of DG and Glitch, the feeling and smell of the place bringing back memories of his years in training. The building had been turned into barracks for the Longcoats during the Sorceress’ reign, and because it had been many annuals, Cain found the place unrecognizable.

“We need a functioning police station again,” he heard DG telling the older man in front of her. “You were a Tin Man once, one of the instructors, I believe.”

Discreetly, DG cast a look over her shoulder to Cain. He nodded in affirmation; she’d come to him to ask who would be the best person for the job of reinstating the Tin Men in Central City. Old Magarren was the first name to come to mind. He’d survived as a resistance fighter during the coup, survived the reconstruction war, and though he stood over the youngest princess with a doubtful look on his grizzled face, Cain knew he’d be the best man for the job.

DG smiled and turned back to Magarren. Cain smirked and shook his head; the old man didn’t know what he was in for if he thought he was going to refuse DG. She could persuade mountains into moving out of her way. While the others talk about recruitments and city laws, Cain found himself gazing intently at DG. He’d always enjoyed watching her exude the passion he knew ran through her like a torrent. Their country was shredded into factions and territories, and DG fervently wanted to reunite them.

He remembered how apprehensive she’d been when the war started, just before he left to assist the military. He remembered how depressed she’d become, her Light fading to a shadow of her former self. She blamed herself for the outcome of her actions as a child, and Cain knew he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t partially agree with her. Her insatiable curiosity set loose a plague on the O.Z.

“_I can’t do this. I can’t help the Zone, I’m the one who caused all of this.” She__ had been holed up in the library, her back to a wall while one hand massaged her temple. _

_Cain read the fear and self loathing in her eyes when she looked up at him. It struck a chord deep in his chest with such resolution, he nearly winced from the pain. “You can do this, kiddo. You can’t keep going back to that cave.”_

“_Yes, I can. I wish that cave would have collapsed and buried me that day.” Cain’s brows drew down in concern as he watched her face go slack in despair. “It’d be a quicker end than having to watch my family, and my people, suffer this war.”_

_Cain had reached out a hand and took hold of her shoulder. She was shaking under his grip. He made his voice like granite, anything to shake her out of that state of mind. _

“_Don’t talk like that, DG. Everything happens for a reason, and you have a job to do.”_

“_I can’t,” she’d whispered, the tears in her eyes made his heartstrings pull taut._

“_Yes you can.”_

“_I can’t do it alone.”_

“_You won’t be alone,” he’d said, just before she fell into his arms for a hug that was meant to stabilize them both._

In reality, it was the tipping point that only undermined Cain’s emotional cohesion. All of his strength and self reliance was shattered like a glass tumbler on the floor, and in the shards all he found was his own confused and lost expression reflected back. He’d protected her out of duty. He’d rousted her from self doubt out of determination; he knew she was the one who could stop the Witch.

That night in the library, he’d intended to act as her touchstone once again, reassuring her with his certainty, fulfilling her need. But Cain hadn’t expected the stark realization that dawned in sudden clarity as he held DG in his arms: he needed her too.

Cain chewed his bottom lip as Magarren and Glitch went over the blueprints to remodel the old academy. DG bent over the small table, her face screwed up in concentration and Cain could see the lines of thought around her eyes. She was doing her job, just as he knew she would.

Something smooth and hard slipped under Cain’s fingers, and when he looked down at his hands, he saw that he’d been unconsciously turning his worn wedding ring over and over. Somehow, he’d slipped it down to the first knuckle of his ring finger and hadn’t even realized it. Cain swallowed and pushed the band of silver back to its former place.

So engrossed in trying to figure out how his hands had started working his ring down his finger of their own volition, Cain didn’t realize DG was at his side until she touched his shoulder.

She smiled a little when he jumped. “Hey…uh…you ready to head back?”

He dropped his hands to his gun belt, shaking the thoughts from his head. “Yeah, sure, Princess.”

DG fell in step with Glitch as they chatted about their plans for returning law enforcement to Central City, while Cain kept a few paces behind. Two guards led the way as they mingled through the evening shoppers, bags in hand as they beat a harried pace back home. The streets were hardly safe after dark, and the second sun was already kissing the horizon. DG’s entourage weaved in and out of the evening ‘commuters’, as she called them, and all the while Cain’s right hand kept going back to his left ring finger, thumbing over the band of silver.

It wasn’t the first time that thoughts of youngest princess had found Cain looking down to see that his ring was being spun restlessly on his finger. He’d just never gotten it all the way off. It was a part of him; like his left hand wouldn’t allow it to go past that first knuckle. But it was starting to seem looser on his finger lately. And Cain refused to let himself fathom the meaning behind that, as he fell a few steps further behind his charge.

Glitch found something interesting on a table of knick-knacks outside of a secondhand store, and had stopped to inspect it. DG had also stopped to see what her friend had found; the two guards in the lead pausing while the Princess shopped. Cain sighed when he saw the Headcase rifling through the table’s contents like he was on a treasure hunt.

More delays. The street lamps burned to life as dusk settled in. Cain didn’t like that it was getting dark, and they were still dallying around in the streets. There were a fair amount of people going in and out of the shops around them, and the second hand store had several other treasure hunters perusing the tables near Glitch. Cain shifted his weight, one hand resting on the butt of his gun, his eyes scanning the opposite walk.

It was almost as he remembered it, working in the city just after graduation. He used to like the way the evenings smelled, the restaurants and bar food wafting out into the streets while the neon glow produced a multicolored haze. He hadn’t started seeing threats around every corner then; hadn’t been christened into the world of dealing with the underbelly of society.

How young he was. The thought brought a slight smile to his face as he watched a sedan pull up, and a man helped his wife out.

His mind was wandering again when he heard DG’s voice over his shoulder.

“Uh, thanks.” Her voice was sarcastic and Cain turned in time to see a teen jaunting away from DG.

He frowned as he walked toward her, casting a questioning glare at the two guards who’d just let a complete stranger waltz right up to DG and hand her something, without even questioning it.

“DG?” Cain asked gruffly.

DG looked back down the street, where the youth had disappeared and shrugged. “Well, that was weird.”

Glitch was holding up some gizmo and Cain figured he hadn’t even noticed what had just happened.

DG looked down at the rumpled piece of paper in her hand, and Cain raised an eyebrow. “The kid give you that?”

“Yeah. But he said it was for the Tin Man,” she answered, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why he didn’t just give it to you, I don’t know.”

Cain took the message and unfolded the paper. Inside, he could barely make out the slanted scrawl, but once he did, the word’s meaning felt like a shotgun to the gut. His eyes must have grown wide, because DG hovered close to him, touching his arm.

“Cain? What is it? What does it say?”

“Get her back to headquarters, now!” Cain snarled at the two guards, who snapped to like a whip had been cracked. With one hand he snagged Glitch’s elbow, yanking him away from the shop; the inventor letting out a strangled ‘Hey!’ in protest.

The other hand snatched up DG’s elbow again, nearly hauling her off her feet as he and the guards plowed down the street toward home. DG’s protests were hardly a buzzing in Cain’s ears. The words on the note kept thundering in his head, the beat in time with his heart. How could he have been so blind? So inept?

_Hell’ova guardian you turned out to be_, he thought bitterly. Cain ignored DG’s flailing arms, pushing, and occasional curse until they were safely back in the foyer of the hotel the royal family had been calling home.

Cheeks stained with ruddy frustration, DG yanked her arm out of the Tin Man’s grasp, and stood facing him. Both hands on her hips, she tilted her head to glare up under his fedora. He met her gaze evenly, unblinking and hard, his lips pressed together into a thin line of anger.

“What. In. The. _Hell_ is wrong, Cain?” DG gestured with one hand, “What was that all about?”

“What did that kid look like? The one who gave you this?” He shook the tattered paper in his fist.

DG narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know, just some kid. I didn’t really look at him.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No. Why?” She stepped into his space, having to tilt her head up as he towered over her. “What the hell was on that paper that nearly had you throwing me over your shoulder like a caveman and dragging me back here?”

Cain broke eye contact first. His jaw worked, grinding his teeth as he ran through all the possibilities in his head. He felt DG shift her weight, as though she were about to forcibly prod him back to her attention.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and adjusting his hat, while he held out the paper for her. She took it, seeming to scan the words several times to make sure she understood.

DG made a face. “I don’t get it. You know this person?”

“You could say that,” he replied dryly, taking the note and rereading the words.

_Twenty years I’ve waited to get you in my sights, Cain. Now I see you’ve aged. Not the cocksure, upstart Tin Man who spat in my face before you sent me to the Deeps so long ago. You look worried, troubled…and old. _

_You’re nothing but a glorified butler to a dilapidated Crown. Killing you will be doing us both a favor. _

_Your instincts have dulled, Cain. I was this close. The little princess has very soft hair – I touched it as I passed. _

_I was _ _ this _ _ close. Remember that._

_Cole_

* * *

“You know I’m right,” DG intoned for what she was sure was the nth time. “We need to put a guard on you, Cain.”

Cain smirked, dusting off his hat. “A guard for the guardian, eh? Thanks, but no thanks.”

DG refrained from rolling her eyes at the blatant machismo beating its chest in front of her. Men and their egos. As long as she’d known him, DG knew her stoic Tin Man had never put much stock in overt bravery for bravery’s sake, nor did he ever boast about his accomplishments.

His quiet strength spoke loudly enough for itself; his bravery proven time and time again through his deeds. Others tried to be heroic. Wyatt Cain just _was_ heroic. And DG knew that if asked, Cain would simply state that he was doing his duty. She’d always figured Cain to be a man made of different stuff, and that after the Great Manufacturer Himself took a good look at His Tin Man creation, the mold was broken.

Now, as she watched Cain clean his hat – with the morning rays of sunlight streaming through the windows of the foyer illuminating him, causing his blond hair to look platinum – she realized something. _He’s still just a man, ‘I-can-take-care-of-myself’ attitude and all._ She smiled into her coffee.

“Still, you should have someone looking out for you.” She shifted in her seat.

Cain sat across from her, hat now perched on his knee, and he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. His gaze was toward the window, the morning light making his ungodly blue eyes look almost clear. He was pensive, and DG knew that note had bothered him more than he was letting on. But it wasn’t the threat against him that had him pacing the different floors of her family’s penthouse until the wee hours.

“Don’t worry about it, DG. I’m supposed to be watching _your_ back.”

“Then I’ll be watching _yours_,” she said softly. When he met her eyes, DG could see surprise in his face.

A flurry of emotions crossed his eyes, and DG thought it reminded her of the way he looked at her on the hilltop near the Black Tower, just before they separated with every possibility of never seeing each other again. She saw admiration, gratitude, and something that seemed like deep-seated longing in those blue depths.

An eternal moment passed before he seemed to regroup. “Remind me to find you a stick, then.” A ghost of a smile quirked his lips, and DG felt herself grinning. He didn’t tease her much, but when he did, it was always subtle.

“Who is this Cole person?” DG asked finally, as they were reading to leave for her appointments.

“A double murdering bastard.” Cain said in a low growl.

DG’s brows went up as she gathered her things. “No love lost over time, I see.”

“He killed an associate of his over a lost bet, and then killed the officer sent to arrest him. An officer with a wife and kids.” Cain’s voice was tight as he shrugged into his duster, while DG stood waiting. “So, I was sent in to track him down and bring him in. And there was no way a guy like Isaiah Cole was gonna come in quietly.”

“But you got him,” DG said.

Cain checked ammunition before guiding her out of the building. “Yeah. After he shot my fellow officer in the arm and nearly set the tenement building he was holed up in on fire. I was able to get to him before he hurt anyone else.”

“And now he’s escaped the Deeps and wants revenge. Why just you? Surely there were other officers that helped convict him.”

Cain surveyed the street with hooded lids. “I did what I had to make sure he made it to trial. We spent a lot of,” he paused, “one-on-one time together after we got him to the jail. Cole liked to test the officers who guarded him. Start fights; show off what a big, bad killer he was.”

DG looked at the Tin Man next to her. Cain’s eyes had darkened, and there was a feral edge to his voice. She was beginning to get the picture: a killer who’d taken one of their own; a capable, young Cain out to vindicate his comrade. She had no problem imaging a younger Cain being full of spit and vinegar – tough and ready to come out swinging – and probably lacking a lot of the patience age now afforded him.

“You put the beat down on him,” she stated. She was careful to keep her voice neutral as possible, though she knew Cain would read her like a book. He’d hear the slight shock coloring her words.

Cain looked down on her, but his face was a mask. “I did what I had to.”

DG mulled over the newfound knowledge of her closest friend. She was about to say something when the plate glass window next to her exploded. Shards flew like a thousand knives, cutting her arm. DG screamed just as a solid freight train of a body rammed into her.

Cain bellowed for her to get down and stay down, his arms winding around her body as he cradled her under his protective bulk. DG found herself staring into his brown leather vest. For an absurd moment, she let herself feel the muscles of his chest through his shirt, until reality crashed back in and Cain’s shouts could be heard over the thunderous din.

Royal guards had poured out of the building, providing cover as Cain yanked DG up from the pavement. She squeaked in surprise as he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, jogging back into the building. She clutched his neck before remembering that Cain carrying her like that was ridiculous. She wasn’t even hurt!

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” She yelled over the orders that were being barked from all directions.

Cain stopped and she pushed out of his arms. His hands roamed her sides, and DG knew he was looking for injuries. He stopped at a cut on her forearm.

“It’s just a scratch from the glass, Cain.”

His face was pinched with worry. “You’re okay? You’re not hit?”

“No,” DG hissed. “Now do you see what I’ve been saying?”

Cain shook his head. “That could’ve been meant for you, Princess. Your family isn’t very popular with some of the natives, you know.”

DG actually laughed. “As if I needed reminding of that fact. But I think _this_, Cain,” she pointed out the door, where guards scrambled and a few cracks of return-fire could be heard, “_this_ was for you.”

Cain pinned her with an icy stare, but no way was she backing down. “I can take care of it. My priority is keeping you safe.”

“And while you’re busy worrying about that priority, Cole is going to put a bullet in your back.” DG’s voice hitched in anger.

“You think I can’t look after myself and protect you too, is that it?”

For the first time, DG saw a glimmer of true hurt in Cain’s eyes. It was the kind of hurt that came from doubt, but it wasn’t doubt in himself. He thought DG doubted his ability where _she_ was concerned. As if she’d ever question the innate fact that he’d lay down his life for her without thinking twice…

DG reached out and grabbed him by the forearms. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. Is it such a stupid thing for me to worry about your safety for a change? This bastard has a hit out on you and I don’t want him to succeed. Period!”

Cain pulled back enough that his forearms slipped through DG’s hands, letting his fingers linger over hers as they passed over them.

“Let me handle this my way, Princess. I can get to him before he gets to me.” His eyes were piercing with certainty and intent, but the hard lines of his face had softened somewhat. He’d been touched by her worry.

He motioned for another guard to stay with her, while he ran back out into the street to round up his men and search for the sniper. DG hugged herself as she watched his duster flapping behind him as Cain disappeared across the street.

“What if he gets to you first?” She muttered.

Later that day, DG decided that cowering in the hotel wasn’t going to help the reconstruction. She’d initially suggested that Cain stay behind – let another guard take up his post for the evening – but that was met with a glacial glare.

She knew she was arguing with a statue as he walked with her to the waiting caravan of sedans parked outside the building.

“This is stupid, Cain. A guy is trying to kill you…you stay out of the way, out of the line of fire,” DG tried. Cain’s only response was a muted growl as he guided her to the car quickly. “I’m not saying go into hiding... yet... but _Jesus,_ Cain! You don’t run around out in the open with a great big target on your back that says _‘Place Crosshairs Here!’_”

Cain tilted his head in an ‘oh, please’ manner and DG all but threw her hands up in the air in a fit of pique. She stuffed herself into the back of the sedan, muttering about Cain being a bullheaded idiot who’d get himself shot just to prove a point.

She saw Cain trotting back to his sedan at the end of the line. The driver was already in it, and Cain slowed down as he came up on the car.

He was not more than ten or fifteen feet from it when the whole thing exploded in a ball of flames; an inky cloud of smoke mushrooming toward the sky. The whole block rocked – the windows nearest the convoy blew out and showered the sidewalk and onlookers in glass. People went skittering this way and that, some yelling for help, guards screaming for reinforcements.

DG’s heart had shot out of her chest when the explosion went off, and was probably hiding somewhere under the front seat. Then she felt completely frozen. _Cain_.

Frantic, she wrenched the door open and stepped out in the street, despite the pleas of the guards nearest her to stay put. Her eyes searched the destruction for a rumpled fedora.

The sedan was gone; little more than a mangled heap of metal in the vague shape of a car, sitting in a blackened concrete crater. The cacophony of noise was deafening as the fire burned on and people scrambled to put it out. Armed men fanned out to secure the block, moving with precision, but DG moved like a stuttering robot toward the epicenter.

She caught sight of something that looked like flesh tangled in the twisted metal and the Princess felt her stomach start to rebel on her. It was the driver; it had to be the driver. She turned away, hand over her mouth. Water that was being sprayed over the car from hoses began to mingle with the blood and soot around her boots.

It seemed like the ambient air was sucked in by the flames and DG couldn’t get a breath into her lungs. She strangled on the terror in her throat; no thoughts came to her mind except his name. _He hadn’t gotten in the car yet. He couldn’t have… he just couldn’t have gotten in that car…_

Glitch had emerged from the hotel, hands on the top of his head in an almost comical display of horror. Ahamo appeared beside the Advisor, his terrified eyes finding his youngest daughter immediately. He rushed to her and grabbed her shoulders.

DG could dimly hear him asking if she was all right, if she was hurt, pleading with her to speak to him. But she had no voice. Her brain couldn’t make her tongue work. And _mother of God_, she could _not_ breathe.

Ahamo’s hands grabbed her face, shaking her slightly. She blinked his face into focus and all but wheezed out one word. “_Cain_…?”

He looked confused for a moment, and DG wanted to punch him, scream at him, _anything_ but see the perpetual apology that was written into his features. She didn’t want him to be sorry about Cain; she wanted to know where he was! DG was about to spit out her question again, when a voice floated to her above the maelstrom.

Ahamo stepped aside and DG strained to see through the smoke. Down the block, about fifty feet from the bombed car, several soldiers surrounded something. DG started moving forward without telling her feet to take a step. One soldier stepped aside, his face as full of relief as his comrades.

A sooty blond head appeared through the black and red coats. DG’s feet broke into a run. Her heart started beating again, and air expanded her lungs at last. She threw herself into his chest before she knew whether or not he was hurt.

He grunted painfully under her weight, but she held fast. Slowly, his arms found their place around her shoulders and she felt herself being crushed under his own fervor.

After a moment, DG pulled away to look at him, as if that alone would confirm that her Tin Man was really there, in front of her. He had a nasty gash at his hairline, and the blood ran down his cheek and neck. His face was peppered with little scratches and a good portion of his brown duster was riddled with holes. A tear in the leg of his pants revealed a freshly bleeding laceration, but it didn’t seem to hinder him standing.

The blast had blown Cain a full thirty feet away. Had he been any closer, they would have been picking pieces of him out of the building’s façade.

“You all right?” His voice cracked and was garbled around the split lip and the smoke in the air. He raised one shaking hand up to her cheek, his bloodied fingers just grazing her skin.

“I am now.” Understatement of the century, and DG knew it. If this was what it was going to be like, worrying about him twenty-four-seven, living with the terror that he could be killed in front of her, DG wasn’t having any of it.

“You have to get out of here,” she said in a shaky voice.

Cain’s brows came together. “What?”

“You have to leave Central City. Find some place safe until this bastard is caught.”

He started to pull away, his face already going back to the ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about, kid’ face, but DG grabbed him by his duster’s lapels.

“Do you understand what has happened today, Cain? A man tried to kill you – _twice_! You’ve been shot at and blown up in the span of twelve hours! What more do you need before you’ll understand that you are in danger, _damnit_!” She knew her voice was cracking, but she didn’t care. She had to make him understand.

“I’ll find him, DG. I tracked him before, I can track him again.” He had her by the shoulders, but she could see that her words were starting to chip his tough-guy façade.

“You can’t stay here, don’t you understand?” She cried. “You’ll get yourself killed trying to watch over me because you’re too damn stubborn to admit that you can’t handle everything by yourself!” She stepped away, a sob in her throat. “And I’m not going to stand here and watch you get killed. I _can’t_.”

Cain’s eyes widened. “I’m not leaving you, kid. If Cole can come after me, he can damn sure come after you. No way am I gonna leave you unprotected.”

DG let out a staccato breath. She saw that she was going to have to do something that would likely feel as if someone were ripping a bandage off a fresh burn. But the pain would be nothing compared to the pain she’d felt just moments before, when for a horrific few minutes, Wyatt Cain was dead.

She found her voice and closed her eyes. “Yes you are, Cain. Because I’m _ordering_ you to leave.”

**End Part I**


	2. Undermine - Part II

“_Loyalty and devotion lead to bravery. Bravery leads to the spirit of self-sacrifice. The spirit of self-sacrifice creates trust in the power of love.” - _Morihei Ueshiba

The whiskey burned like acid as it slid down his throat again. It felt good. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything but the basic feelings, as he had shut down his emotions and locked his rusted heart back in its hammered tin box with a padlock of steel. It was just safer for everyone that way.

The air around Cain was a feted swirl of stale smoke, day-old beer and body odor, tinged with a layer of lust for flavoring. The cramped bar was dark – the only lights from the few candle lanterns on the moldy tables, and the back-lit bar – and he figured the denizens preferred it that way. No one wanted to actually _see_ where they were sitting, _what_ they were drinking or _whom_ they were dancing with. Darkness was definitely a perk for a hell hole like this.

The music thumped lazily in the background, and Cain shifted on his stool, casting a veiled glance around the dance floor, making sure the party goers were behaving themselves for the most part. If a fight broke out or a customer didn’t like the service (advertised on the menu or the special one-on-one ‘services’ that were not) he was getting from his waitress, it was Cain’s job to clean up the mess.

He was good at cleaning up other people’s messes. His own were another matter. The dance floor was littered with a few drunken couples fondling each other, while the goings-on in some of the shielded booths was something Cain had learned to block out not long after arriving.

He’d been in the Realm of the Unwanted for nearly six months. The day of the car bomb had shown him that he’d underestimated Isaiah Cole’s tenacity in seeking retribution, and it had nearly killed him to submit to his princess’ demand. Though it tore the Tin Man in two, he knew he could deny her nothing, and when given an explicit order – even though it had been delivered through teary eyes and a trembling voice – Cain obeyed.

He downed another shot, figured that it should be his last if he was going to stay alert. Day and night went by seamlessly and unnoticed in the underground, and he had no idea how much of his days were spent reliving that day when his control over his life had been stripped away. Perhaps that’s what Cole truly wanted in the end – Wyatt Cain stripped to the core and cast into the abyss of uncertainty.

The only place in the Zone where a person could easily disappear was the Realm of the Unwanted. DG’s Slipper father had done a pretty good job of it, and Cain knew that after two annuals, the wanted posters the Longcoats had tacked up displaying his picture along the streets of the Realm would be long gone. Not that the citizens of this Netherworld had very long memories, anyway. It was every man for himself down here, and Cain liked it that way.

A customer in a booth to his right caught Cain’s attention when he started yanking on the arm of the working girl he’d formerly been sharing his seat (and lap) with. She was pushing on him, saying that he hadn’t paid her enough to take her to a room somewhere, but the guy wasn’t listening. He snatched the skinny waif around the waist with a laugh and started dragging her to exit.

No one in the entire place made a move to intervene. Cain sighed wearily and stood up. Adjusting his hat, and grabbing his newly acquired sawed-off shotgun, Cain ambled toward the struggling couple.

“Hey,” Cain barked above the dull roar. “I don’t think you’ve paid for the take-out service, buddy.”

The guy turned to look at the mouthy intruder with a sneer. He was a weasel-faced man, with dark skin and half his teeth were capped with silver. “Fuck you, man. I paid her what I had, and now I’m ordering some more. Get your own whore!”

A slow smirk pulled one side of the former Tin Man’s lips. Casually he swung the sawed-off shotgun up on his hip, thumbing back one of the double triggers. He aimed at the weasel guy’s midsection, watching the smaller man’s eyes go wide with fear and his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Cain tilted his head, challenging with his cool eyes.

“You wanna rethink that last statement, asshole?”

Weasel guy swallowed, looking from the hooker to the barrel of Cain’s gun and back again. He decided that the skinny girl in his arms wasn’t worth a cannonball sized hole in his gut. He tossed her aside with a snort.

“Fine. She ain’t worth three platinums, not by a long shot.” He stalked out, carefully giving the Tin Man a wide berth.

Heaving another sigh, Cain clicked the safety ‘on’. The girl tried to thank him, but Cain only tipped his hat to her and walked back to the bar. He set the shotgun on the chipped wooden surface and pushed his hat back, rubbing his hands over his face. The black fedora on his head felt alien, not the second skin his old brown one had been. The black leather coat – which came down only past his hips, making him feel like the backs of his legs were exposed to attack – didn’t hug his shoulders the way his duster had.

Nothing was comfortable down here, and yet, he knew it was where he belonged. He’d found out that much when he’d tried to sneak back to check on her a couple of months ago.

_He wasn’t surprised the royal family had been moved back to Finaqua. It was remote and fairly easily protected; exactly where he would have suggested they go. Cain had spent all of two months in the Unwanted Realm, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep himself from going back to her, just to see if she was alright. Just to make sure._

_The sky was gunmetal gray that day, a slight drizzle keeping the earth wet. The hedge walls of the maze at the entrance to Finaqua seemed thicker than he remembered, darker even, as though they didn’t want him to enter. He’d crept through the twists and turns, slowing down when he heard voices nearby._

_Cain recognized the voice he’d missed over the past two moths immediately; something in his chest unknotted and relaxed. He peered around the corner of the bush. _

“_Balance, DG. Balance! You have to be able to balance your weight while you utilize your opponent’s forward motion against him.” Glitch was helping DG up off the wet grass._

_She had an adorably embarrassed look on her face, and Cain surmised that the Headcase was finally making good on his promise to teach her self-defense. It was uncanny_ _how talented that scatterbrain was in hand-to-hand combat. Cain felt himself smile as he watched DG take a stance and try to block Glitch’s advance. It was all he could do not to laugh as DG moved aside as Glitch lunged at her, pulling him along as his own inertia sent right into her knee, which she planted in his stomach. _

_DG grinned triumphantly for a second, before bending down to make sure her royal advisor was all right. _

“_Good job, doll,” he coughed. “Pretty soon you won’t need a bodyguard. Those bony knees alone will be deadly weapons.”_

“_If only,” DG said, falling somber. “About time someone realized that I’m capable of learning how to defend myself; that I don’t have to be hidden behind some broad shouldered behemoth with a cowboy complex and a gun.” She dusted herself off and Glitch eyed her worriedly._

_Cain felt a pinch in the vicinity of his heart. She was referring to him, that much was clear. Surely she didn’t believe that he thought her a frail damsel, incapable of anything more than cowering behind her guardian, did she? Cain thought back to the Eclipse, how she’d shown herself to be_ _so much more than he’d given her credit for. That the simple hug on that hill top before she set out against the Sorceress was all he’d been capable of at the time, when in reality he’d wanted to crush her in an embrace and tell her how proud he was of her. _

_One hand gripped his gun belt in a sudden wave of frustration. Self defense doesn’t do a person any good in a gun fight_, _Princess_,_ he’d thought. _

“_I wouldn’t give up the guards just yet, doll face, “Glitch said. “The crazies are still around and–”_

“_I’m not the one with a lunatic ex con after me!” DG crossed her arms and turned away, facing the lake. _

_Cain would have given anything for her to turn around, so he could see her face. He knew the princess well enough to read the deeper emotions that played in those crystal blue eyes. She could say one thing, but those big doe eyes often spoke whatever truths she was hiding. _

_He moved slightly, trying to get at a better angle and a twig snapped beneath his boot. Cain froze, inwardly berating himself for the rookie blunder, but looked up in time to lock eyes with Glitch. It was times like this, with Glitch silently staring at him, that Cain could see Ambrose clearly coming through. Cain swallowed; a minute shake of the head silently telling Glitch not to alert DG._

_Glitch raised a critical brow, as if to say ‘you really think I’m that dumb?’ He glanced at DG, and took a step toward her._

“_Cain had a life and a job before all of this, DG. It’s not his fault his past came crashing through the door with car bombs and sniper fire.” _

_The princess seemed to heave a sigh, her head dipped. “I know that, Glitch. The problem is that he wouldn’t listen. After the sniper attack, I tried to get him to take precautions, take himself out of the line of fire and let the Guard try to find Cole.”_

_Glitch threw a look at Cain, who was fretting his bottom lip. “He was just looking out for you.”_

“_And it nearly got him blown into the next century.” DG looked up at Glitch, and Cain pulled back a little, behind the bushes. “We haven’t got a clue where that bastard Cole is, do we? After two months… nothing. If he had stayed to play White Knight, Cain could be dead by now. I don’t need that kind of weight on my shoulders, Glitch.”_

_The advisor placed a hand on her shoulder, and Cain envied his easy way of displaying his emotions; the way his ability to comfort came naturally. Her words were slicing what was left of his heart in two, and Cain began to wish he’d never come back. _

“_So, you aren’t ready to send for Cain, I take it? I’d have guessed that you would be missing him like crazy by now,” Glitch said. _

“_No. Everybody’s better off if he stays away,” DG murmured. She was hugging herself now, and Cain knew tears were streaming down her cheeks. _

_Cain met Glitch’s apologetic eyes one last time, before turning and heading back the way he’d came. His gait was stiff, stilted – as though it became more and more painful to move the further_ _he got from the princess. His jaw ached from holding it clenched for so long. _

_When he found his mount deep in the woods, he rode away as if the gates of Hell had opened behind him, setting loose demons of his past and present on his heels. DG’s words echoed in time with the thundering hooves beneath him as he snarled at the horse to run faster. _

That was the day Cain had dug out the tarnished tin box from the recesses of his soul, picked up the slivers of his heart, shoved them inside and walked away. He returned to his unwanted Realm and never ventured back to check on her. DG was fine without him. She didn’t need him. He was a fool to let himself miss her that much.

Cain’s mouth felt like cotton. He realized that his eyes had been closed, shutting out the dank underworld of his present, while he replayed the painful memories. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so damned tired. Raising a hand, he let the barkeep know he wanted another shot. To hell with mental sharpness, he needed to dull the ache.

His lips pulled back over his teeth in a grimace as the liquor burned. It didn’t feel good this time. He’d welcomed the burn before, but now he realized he’d had the right idea in the first place – numbness had its rewards.

Cain sat with his gun at his side, trying to return to the time when he felt nothing at all.

* * *

DG pulled her old leather bomber jacket closer around herself as she moved down the street. She’d traded the long skirts and dresses she’d worn for the summits and meetings associated with reconstruction above for her dungarees, tennis shoes and leather bomber while she was in the Realm of the Unwanted. It was just as she remembered: a little filthier – if that was possible – but still filled with the sounds of drunks, club music, street exhibitions and the crackles and pops of God-knew-what kind of machinery.

She knew Cain was here, somewhere. It had been over six months, but he’d said that this was the best place in the O.Z. to disappear. The Crown’s investigation into Isaiah Cole and his hit out on Cain was at a dead end, no pun intended. The princess hadn’t heard one word from Cain since he left Central City, and her gut twisted mercilessly with the thought that maybe Cole had found him and made good on his threat. How on earth would she know? She’d sent him away for his own good. Trouble was, he could be dead and she’d never know.

DG shouldered her way through a crowd gathered outside an exhibitionist’s window; the half-naked girl inside the window box was showing off her skill as a contortionist, and DG shuddered. There were just some positions a human body should not attempt.

Assuming Cain had found some sort of employment, DG decided to ask one of the ‘barkers’ standing outside a peep-show house if he’d seen the former Tin Man. He was spewing his business’ ballyhoo to any passersby when DG managed to get his attention.

“You ever see a guy that looked like this?” She held up a rendering of Cain that she’d sketched. It was black and white, but his features were unmistakable. “Might’ve shown up a while back looking for work?”

The portly spiel-man looked at the drawing and shrugged. “Maybe. My memory ain’t so good these days.”

DG rolled her eyes and fished a coin out of her pocket. She flipped it to him. “Is it getting any better now?”

He sported a pudgy grin and flipped the silver coin in his palm. “Yep. It’s coming back now.” He looked at the photo. “Yeah, I’ve seen this guy. Works as a bouncer down the street. Scary son-of-a-bitch. Got the coldest eyes I ever seen.”

DG chewed her lip, looking over her shoulder.

“Eyes blue like glacier ice and ten times colder, I tell ya. He’s got a reputation.” The pitchman said.

“What kind of reputation?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

The man shrugged one huge shoulder. “Not one to mess with, I hear. Doesn’t spare the fist when customers get too rowdy, and not shy about using that sawed-off shotgun he carries if a person pulls a weapon. I saw them toting out a body a few weeks ago. Your bouncer put a bullet in some guy’s neck when he found him strangling one of the working girls.”

DG’s blood went cold, tendrils of fear snaking around in her belly. She forced a calm look on her face. “Thanks.” She turned to leave, but the fat pitchman called to her.

“He ain’t the sociable kind, sweet cheeks. Not even for a piece of prime ass like you. He’s turned away some of my best girls on his way home, and that just ain’t right. Man’s gotta sate his needs, ya know? And _that_ guy,” he chuckled, “I ain’t seen him with a girl ever. He might break you if he’s a mind to.”

He leered at the princess, his eyes traveling the length of her body, and had there been a bottle nearby, DG would have probably broken it over the fat bastard’s face.

She made her way down to the dive the peep-show spiel guy had indicated. She could smell the stale liquor and pungent bodies before she crossed the threshold. She ignored the languid bodies on the dance floor, the booths creaking under the weight of their amorous occupants, and scanned the dungeon-esque bar.

A bottle smashed, causing the princess to jump and flatten herself against the wall, behind a booth divider. Voices rose above the music and heads turned to see what was the cause of the commotion. From her hiding spot, DG saw two men yelling and waving their arms at another man who was hidden in shadow. They were both middle aged, she guessed, and could have passed for street bums. Curses spewed forth and one of them grabbed the jagged end of the broken bottle and lunged at the lone man.

The Shadow Man easily grabbed the bum’s wrist and wrenched. There was a snapping sound of bones being broken and the bum howled in pain. He tried to swing his good arm, but caught Shadow Man’s fist across his jaw instead. Bum number two took the opportunity to take a pot-shot at Shadow Man’s ribs. He let out a bear-like snarl, and DG could see that he was wearing a hat very similar to Cain’s, except it was black with a bullet-holding hat band.

He turned on the second bum with a vengeance, and dodged the dagger that had suddenly appeared in his attacker’s hand. The shadowy man in black got in a few good shots, but when he went to reach for something – DG thought it was a rifle or another weapon – on the bar, the second bum tackled him to the ground. The first bum was still flat on his face on the floor, knocked out. The two men grappled on the floor for a moment, before DG saw the man in black end up on top.

He reached down, grabbed the second bum’s head in both hands and twisted. There was a wet, crackling sound as bones and tendons snapped. DG shuddered in horror. He let the dead man’s head hit the floor unceremoniously. Bile rose in DG’s throat at the sight. When the man in black stood up, the dim light of the bar glinted off his face and she saw intensely blue eyes shining out from under the hat brim.

A hand went over her mouth as she recognized him. A feral sneer stretched his lips as he looked down at his handiwork. Bum number one was waking up, but shuffled away from the menacing hulk of a man towering over him. He skittered out of the bar, cradling his useless arm.

DG’s heart was thundering in her ears, and she didn’t realize that she wasn’t breathing until Cain looked up and saw her. They both seemed to be frozen in time, staring at each other. The fury drained from Cain’s face like an ebbing tide and was replaced by shock.

“DG?” He breathed. He was panting from the fight, but DG knew his labored breathing wasn’t all due to the exertion of dispatching a man.

She was panting too, and when he spoke her name, her legs nearly went out from under her. He took a step toward her and something snapped inside her. She had to get out of that place. That wasn’t the Cain she knew, that was some mutated likeness. DG managed to stumble out the door and turned down the alley next to the bar, choking on the shock and sobs caught in her throat.

The princess yelped when a meaty hand latched onto her upper arm and spun her around. She was face-to-chest with Cain; he grabbed both her arms and held her against the alley wall.

“What the hell are you doing here, DG?” Cain was in her face, but she saw the fear mixed in with the shock and anger in his eyes. “And alone too! What the hell has gotten into your head that you would come down here _alone_?”

DG swallowed, cowering under his words. “I-I came to find you…” To her astonishment, she realized that Cain was shaking nearly as badly as she was.

“Ozma’s stars, kid, _why_? Someone could recognize you. You could have been kidnapped or ra–” he strangled on the word. DG saw raw pain flicker across his weathered face.

“T-The royal guard… couldn’t find him, Cain,” she whispered. The vision of Cain killing the bum kept flashing through her head when she tried to meet his eyes, and it was distracting her with revulsion. “We’ve spent the past six months looking for Cole, and we couldn’t get a lead on him.”

“So, why did you come down here by yourself, kid?”

“Because I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, Cain!” She forced her voice to stop shaking, and Cain leaned back to look at her fully. “I needed to know you were all right, that Cole hadn’t found you. You’re the best tracker in the O.Z., from what everyone says, and even your old Tin Man buddies said you were the only one who could find Cole.”

DG knew the main reason she came was to see for herself that Cain was well, but when he sighed and gave her an exasperated look, she felt contrite. His next words only made her feel worse.

“Could’ah told you that,” he said. Sighing, Cain released her and leaned one hand on the wall near her head. “I haven’t wasted my time in that hellhole bar for six months for nothing. I’ve been keeping tabs on Cole.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s _here_?” When Cain nodded, DG refrained from smacking her palm to her forehead. “Oh my God, I sent you away for your safety and the bastard finds you down here _anyway_!”

Guilt ate at her insides. She’d sent him away with the best of intentions. He was going to get himself killed forsaking his safety for hers, and she couldn’t handle that. She’d probably made him think she didn’t need him, didn’t want him bringing her family into the line of fire by hanging around. What an idiot she was. _What is the road to Hell paved with again, DG _she thought bitterly.

Cain’s voice had softened, his eyes telling her that he knew what she was thinking. “If he knows I’m here, he hasn’t tried anything yet. Might be waiting for the right moment when I’m not looking. But the main thing is _I_ know where he is. I can be ready when he does make a move.”

DG shifted nervously under his scrutiny, noting his bedraggled appearance. He had a week’s worth of stubble on his face that made him look even more dark and sinister. The blue eyes she’d once seen warmth and affection in were stark and cold. She shivered again as she remembered seeing him kill a man with his bare hands. What had she turned him into, sending him to this underworld? Or was this a beast that had lain dormant in the Tin Man, and she was just now getting a glimpse of it? It suddenly occurred to the princess that even after two annuals, she didn’t know Wyatt Cain as well as she thought. And that scared the hell out of her.

Cain seemed to sense her growing discomfort, and she saw the concern changing his features. “DG, I…”

She knew she shouldn’t have flinched like he was about to slap her, but when his hand neared her face, she balked. Her heart cursed her for acting stupid – _this was Cain for Christ’s sake!_ – but her head pointed to the images of him breaking necks and the bestial look in his eyes when he did it.

Cain pulled away, as though her reaction were an electrical wire he’d touched. DG saw raw guilt in his face, and he looked down, his hand balling into a fist. He looked like he might be sick. She wanted to reach for him, but her hand wouldn’t obey her will.

A movement to their left pulled the Tin Man’s attention from DG. A wire-thin man with dark skin was glaring at them.

“Mmm. Got yourself a nice little piece there, big man.” His silver teeth gleamed in the twilight. “Bet _you_ didn’t have to pay full price either! Big gun waving in everyone’s face like you own the joint.” He swaggered toward them, waving his arms in bravado.

This guy wasn’t on the vapors, he was on something harder. His pupils were dilated so large, DG wondered if the O.Z. had some version of heroin she didn’t know about. Cain rose to his full height, squaring his shoulders as he turned to face the man. He seemed to recognize the druggie with the silver teeth.

He pushed DG behind him slowly. “Back off,” he warned in a low tone.

“We ain’t in that club no more, big man. Your orders don’t mean shit out here.” The dark man swiveled his head to get a look at DG. He smiled. “I’d like to taste that when you’re through, though…”

In one blindingly fast movement, Cain pulled his pistol from the holster under his short leather coat. He thumbed back the hammer, showing his teeth as he aimed for the druggie’s head. “I’ve got something you can taste…”

The other man nearly fell over himself backing away, but Cain’s trigger finger twitched. DG gasped and grabbed his arm. “Stop! Please.”

Immediately Cain relaxed, as though her touch flipped a shut-off switch in him. He looked at her over his arm, as if he expected her to run in terror. DG watched the gun slowly fall to his side.

“C’mon,” he said after a moment, re-holstering his weapon. “We’ve got to get you off the street before someone realizes who you are.” He herded her out of the alley, stepped into the bar to grab his shotgun, and then guided her down the street. “I’ve got a place we can talk.”

His hand hovered near the small of her back, but never touched her.

* * *

Cain was almost ashamed to show DG where he’d been sleeping for the past six months. His hovel of an apartment was barely more than a cell; four termite eaten walls, a small table, a cot and one lone light bulb. She looked around in muted concern when they entered, but Cain didn’t apologize. It was just par for the course; low income, rat-trap housing for the unwanted in the Realm of the Unwanted.

He’d been thoroughly knocked for a loop by DG’s reaction to his closeness in the alley. She’d seen him kill a man with his bare hands; what kind of reaction was he expecting? But it still sent an ice pick through his heart. DG had been frightened of him. She still was. She moved around his tiny apartment as though she wasn’t sure where to come to rest, and she was careful to keep a little distance between them.

Cain wanted to throw up. He’d never meant to scare her. He sat on the edge of his table, taking off his hat and setting it aside. Running a hand over his hair, he decided that putting off talking wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

“Why’d you come down here alone, DG? Where’s you guard?”

“I left them topside,” she said. “I think a young woman traipsing down into the Realm of the Unwanted, flanked by a team of royal guards in uniform might draw attention, don’t you?”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Still, it was stupid. I thought you wanted me as far away as possible?” He kept his eyes fixed on his knees, unwilling to look up.

DG seemed to wilt inward on herself. “I wasn’t trying to get rid of you, Cain. I was trying to protect you. I know that’s hard to imagine that someone might want to keep _you_ safe for a change, but I do.” She sighed and walked over to him, stopping a few inches away from his knees, where he perched on the table. “I was weak.”

His brows rose and he looked up. “Weak?”

She nodded, staring at her shoes. “That day when the car blew up…I thought you were dead. The few minutes before I found you were the worst few minutes of my life. I couldn’t go through that again. I couldn’t take the worry and the uncertainty; that something might happen again and you wouldn’t get off with some cuts and bruises.”

“And a concussion,” he added. He caught her eye and she graced him with a half-smile.

It fell away quickly as she went on. “I couldn’t risk losing you for good, Cain. That’s why I ordered you to leave. You might be willing to lay down your life to protect me, but I’m not willing to let you do it.”

Cain felt the first twinges of hope pluck his heart.

“I need you too much, Cain. I need you to stay alive.” DG’s eyes were luminous in the dim lighting. She was still hugging herself as though she was scared, and Cain wanted so badly to reach out to her.

He smirked a little. “I’ll do my best to accommodate you then, Princess.” He couldn’t help it; a hand reached out toward her face, but stopped just short of grazing her cheek.

He waited, watching her body language. If she even hinted at balking, he’d pull away. _And I’d most likely consider shooting off my hand_, he thought. She seemed to consider his action.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and every fiber of him meant it. He couldn’t seem to find the words to express everything he was sorry for – for arguing with her before, for doubting her, for allowing a part of himself to hate her for banishing him to this netherworld. But mostly for scaring her.

He hoped those two words would encompass his all-consuming wish that she not _fear_ him, for _that _would likely be his undoing.

When DG leaned her cheek into his hand, a weight flew off his shoulders, and for what felt like the first time in months, Cain felt his heart beat again.

DG closed her eyes, holding onto his hand as it caressed her cheek. She reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. Cain breathed her in as deeply as he could, savoring the feel of her in his arms. After a moment, DG slowly pulled away, smiling and asked for a restroom to clean up. Cain pointed to the closet door on the far wall that led to a tiny washroom. While she was splashing water on her face, Cain sat considering everything that had happened. It had felt so natural, touching her face, holding her close.

And she needed him. She’d swept away his doubts with those words. Cain looked down at his hands. The band of silver that had worn an indention in his left ring finger was sitting in the palm of his hand. He’d pulled it off without even knowing it. Cain stared dumbly at it for a full minute, as though it had fallen from the sky and struck him on the head.

He looked at his hand, at the tan line where the ring had been. He flexed his fingers. It didn’t feel as odd as he thought it would. It had come off easily, and with it another weight rolled off his soul and allowed it to breathe again. The tin box where his heart was locked away sprung open, and Cain knew he wouldn’t put the ring back on. Things were different. _He_ was different.

He was just putting the ring in his pocket when a noise down the hall outside his apartment made him stand up and grab his gun.

* * *

DG’s mind was a whirlwind of disjointed thoughts and raging emotions. She stumbled over some trash in the street as she hurried along, trying to keep Cain in sight, but not alerting him to her presence. Part of her was indignant that he begged her to stay behind – as if she’d let him go to that meeting by himself – but part of her understood his fear.

_When she returned from the washroom,_ _she found Cain reading over a note that must have been left outside the door in the hallway. The muscle in his jaw was twitching, which meant that whatever the note said wasn’t good. _

“_Stay here,” he ordered, crumbling the note up and checking the ammo in his pistol. “Bolt the door, and for the love of Ozma, don’t open it until I come back.”_

“_Where are you going?” DG picked up the crumpled paper and nearly fainted when she saw what it said. _

_Cole had found them. He knew DG was with Cain and he wanted the Tin Man to meet him alone, in an abandoned diner near the topside exit. If Cain didn’t come alone, or refused to come at all, Cole would tell his men to rush the lunch-box sized apartment and open fire. _

“_Oh no. No way. I’m coming with you.” She started to follow him, but was halted by a hand snatching her around the wrist._

_Cain’s eyes blazed. “The hell you are!”_

“_Cain-”_

“_No!” He grabbed her roughly, pulling her close and stared into her eyes. DG had never felt the true intensity of Cain’s eyes until that moment, and it burned her insides. “For once, DG, do as I say. Please.”_

“_It’s a trap. He’s luring you into a sure death, Cain! Don’t you understand–”_

“_Don’t you understand that I can’t lose_ _you either?” He’d blurted it out, like something painful was being wrenched from his body. _

_DG was frozen, staring open-mouthed up at him. Cain’s eyes were beseeching as they searched her face for understanding. Then he did the unthinkable. He yanked her to him, seizing her lips with his own in a crushing kiss. DG didn’t know how to react; his lips moved roughly over her own, his tongue teasing her parted lips open and invading her mouth. DG must have whimpered, or moaned, because he pressed her body harder against his own with a slight rumble emanating from his chest. She had just clutched his coat with her fists when he quickly pulled away. _

_Cain looked confused for a moment,_ _cheeks colored from the rush. Then the steely Tin Man returned and with a slight nod and a grimly determined look, he turned and raced down the hall. _

_DG stood there for a while, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. When she regulated her breathing to something below panting, she took off after her Tin Man without a second thought._

If he thought he was going to kiss her like that and then run off to his death like some paperback novella hero, Wyatt Cain had another think coming. The princess arrived at the meeting place in time to see Cain take a vicious punch to the stomach by one of the two henchmen holding him, as they stood before the man she assumed to be Isaiah Cole.

He was a big man, taller than Cain, with salty grey hair and pale eyes. He watched his goons with utter satisfaction as they pummeled Cain. DG watched from the window; useless, scared and angry as hell. She forbade the tears that formed in her eyes as she watched Cain spit blood onto the wooden floor, and frantically thought of some way to help; a way that didn’t include getting caught in a hailstorm of bullets. And unlike last time, a stick wasn’t going to do her much good.

Cole held Cain’s sawed-off shogun in one hand and pointed it at the Tin Man’s head. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it Cain? All those times you took your fists to me in that jail before the trial was over… now you know how it feels.”

“You asked for it, Cole,” Cain coughed, struggling to sit up on his knees. “You nearly killed that rookie who brought in your food trays. You picked fights with everyone who came in contact with you.”

“And you ganged up on one man stuck in a jail cell,” Cole sneered. “How is that a fair fight?”

Cain chuckled, wiping the blood from his mouth. “What ‘gang’? It was always just _me_, Cole. You were always all talk, saying you could beat ten Tin Men at once. You _still are_ all talk. You got your boys doing your beating for you. You send them to do your killing too?”

DG gasped when Cole reached out and backhanded Cain across the jaw. The Tin Man grunted, but took the pain pretty well. “I’ve been waiting twenty years, Cain. I could have killed you any time I wanted.”

“So why don’t you try?” DG could hear the menace in Cain’s voice and imagined him piercing the ex con with a blue steel gaze. “Why don’t we make this like old times? Tell your boys to take a walk and you and me settle this.”

A fleeting image of the first time DG had ever seen Cain zipped through her mind’s eye, and it occurred to her how similar the current situation seemed. Even with Zero out of the picture, not much had changed. Cain was still defiant in the face of death.

Cain rose to his feet, while the goons watched him warily. His hands were balled into white knuckled fists, and Cole’s superior smirk was wiped clean off his face with Cain’s next words.

“I never needed any help beating a cowardly, back-stabbing sonofabitch like you.” Cain’s tone had dipped to sound like gravel, and DG swore she saw Cole take a step back.

Cole’s face contorted in barely restrained fury and he slowly raised Cain’s shotgun to waist level. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll settle this…”

Cold terror ripped through DG’s being, and nearly stopped her heart. The first thought she latched onto was ‘diversion’. She summoned her magical will, calling on every lesson she’d learned. She didn’t have time to focus it properly, so the first object to come into sight was what she focused her magic on. It happened to be a table in a corner behind Cole. DG imagined lifting it up in a fist and throwing it as hard as she could at Cole’s back. The table lifted and flew into the air with more raw power than DG had anticipated.

The goons jumped back just as the table slammed into Cole, sending him sprawling through the air and hitting the back wall. DG was halfway in the front door when she saw Cain spring into action. He pulled a small knife from his boot, and spun gracefully while still in a half-crouch, hitting the closest henchman in the gut. He cried out and fell to his knees. Cain snatched the pistol sticking out of the gutted henchman’s belt and turned it on his buddy.

One swift pivot in place, and Cain pumped two rounds into the second henchman without batting an eye. DG didn’t think she’d seen better movements in all the westerns and kung-fu movies she’d watched on the Other Side. When Cain saw her, the cool exterior melted away to true fear. The fear quickly gave way to anger as he realized she’d been there all along.

“DG, _what the hell_?” After checking to make sure the two goons were dead, Cain looked back up to her and his shoulders slumped. “You just couldn’t listen, could you?”

DG let out a ragged breath of relief. “No. I guess not. I wasn’t about to let you face this guy alone.”

She started toward Cain when the sound of twin hammers clicking made her freeze. She and Cain turned to see Cole standing to DG’s right, the sawed-off shotgun trained on her.

Cole’s eyes were like death itself, a bestial grin on his lips. “Well, hello there, Princess…”

Cain’s eyes met DG’s and for a split second, it was like the world fell away. Everything was light, beautiful; they were back at Finaqua and Cain was making her laugh with some fable about the Zone. They weren’t lost, in a cold, dark hell with a psychopath holding a gun on them. Cain’s words reverberated off her skull, as though he’d had a direct line into her thoughts. If he had some sort of telepathic powers, she’d have to ask him later.

_Distract him! _

DG saw Cain give a minute nod, and that was all the confirmation she needed. She gathered all the fear, the hurt, the worry, and anger and the love that had rampaged within her over the past few hours and let it explode in her raised hands. A blinding ball of light ignited like a mini-supernova. Cole flinched and screamed, shielding his eyes.

The next sound DG heard was the cracking report of Cain’s pistol as he emptied it into Cole. Her Light faded out and she wavered for a second, while Cain kept firing until the gun clicked empty.

* * *

The light from the double suns nearly blinded them when they climbed out of the Realm of the Unwanted. DG had left a small contingent of guards camped in the woods near the entrance, with express orders to give her time to find Cain before they came looking for her. They’d been readying a rescue party when the princess and the former Tin Man emerged from the underworld.

DG sipped from her canteen and watched Cain rummage through his pack. He’d made a stop to gather his things – DG was pleased to see the old rumpled fedora and brown duster among them – before they left. They hadn’t spoke more than a few words to each other after they left the old restaurant; Cole’s body was still inside and DG couldn’t bring herself to care that they were just going to leave it there with his dead comrades.

She watched his hands deftly folding his clothing and tried to reconcile her feelings. _Numbness_ was the word that came to mind. Helping to kill three men wasn’t something she was going to forget, but at the same time, she understood that she’d done what she had to. Just as Cain did when he killed the drunk in the bar.

DG shook her head. She’d acted like a fool after that incident; she hated the look on Cain’s face when she balked from his touch. The feel of his skin on her face, his mouth roaming, exploring her own, came to mind and all the horrible images of death and hate were washed away in their wake.

She blinked out of her reverie. Squinting her eyes, she tilted her head, and stared again at Cain’s hands as he stuffed items back into his bag. Something was missing. When it dawned on her, DG’s jaw dropped and she had to remind herself to close it, or her guards might think she’d taken the Vapors while down in Sin City.

The ring was gone. Cain’s link to the ghost of his wife was finally gone, and DG didn’t know how to process the new vision of Cain minus silver wedding band.

Cain stood, said something to a lieutenant, and then turned to DG. He placed the old brown fedora on his head, running his fingers around the brim in a flourish. He gave the front of the hat brim a slight tug in her direction, a half-smile playing on his lips. DG’s heart skittered around in her chest when she realized how long it had been since she’d seen him acknowledge her like that. Cain started moving down the embankment toward the stream below – presumably to fetch water, though he had no canteen – when he paused and looked at her over his shoulder.

DG didn’t need an engraved invitation. She laughed softly at herself, and followed Cain to the water.

Cain was waiting for her, looking out across the small stream into the stands of white-barked trees on the other side. A soft breeze ruffled the leaves and felt cold and sweet against her face.

“You’re pretty good at giving orders, Princess, but lousy at following them.” Cain looked over at her. “You could’ve gotten us both killed following me to the meet like that.”

DG sighed, her tranquility rapidly being replaced by frustration again. “Here we go again.” She turned to him, hands on her hips and said, “I told you, I couldn’t let you go alone. And if I hadn’t gone you’d surely be _dead_, so you might as well get over it.”

At his eye roll, DG added, “And since we are on the subject of disobeying orders, you can tell me why you didn’t follow mine.”

Cain turned halfway toward her, arms crossed over his chest. “And just what does that mean?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Glitch told me.” DG watched his face try to cover his exposure with nonchalance. “Why did you come back to Finaqua? Why’d you risk your safety coming into the open again?”

Cain gazed out into the forest again, chewing his bottom lip. DG could see him struggling with his emotions, trying to decide how much was too much to admit. She took a step toward him and waited.

Finally he heaved a weary sigh, his head dropping toward his chest. “Had to see you… see if you were all right. I just… had to make sure.”

DG realized that was about as close as she’d ever get to Cain admitting that he’d missed her enough to sneak out and risk getting shot, just to see her. It ignited a tiny flame in her heart and at that moment, DG knew she could forgive him anything.

“I missed you too,” she admitted quietly. When he looked up from under his hat at her, she smiled. “A life without you in it isn’t something I’m willing to have. That’s why I had to come find you.”

Cain nodded. “I know.”

DG reached out and took his left hand, silently running her finger over the bare spot where his wedding band had been. Cain watched her movements intently. Gently he pulled her a little closer, and DG felt a serenity wash over her. Cain tilted her chin up to catch her eyes, and she noticed that his were a different shade of blue. The graying darkness that shaded them was gone, and they glowed an ethereal blue in the afternoon sunlight.

“Maybe both of us should refrain from giving orders, since we can’t seem to follow them.” DG smirked when Cain’s face lightened into a grin.

“I don’t know about that, kiddo,” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a heated kiss to her flesh. DG felt a heat unfurl in her stomach and stifled the soft gasp that nearly escaped her lips.

Cain watched her reaction and let his patented half smile pull at his lips. “I think we should just take it as it comes.”

He placed the hand he’d kissed on his chest, covering it with his own. She felt his heart beating strong and steady. Leaning into him, she reached up and pushed his hat back with one finger. Cain watched her tilt his hat with idle curiosity, but tightened his grip on her hand, as though he were afraid it was all a dream and she’d slip away like morning mist.

DG placed her free hand on top of his in the center of his chest.

“Take it as it comes. Sounds like a plan to me.”

**END**


	3. Misheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glitch overhears some interesting things, and predictably misunderstands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks Celia Stanton for feeding the muse today. She was hungry for something funny. So I made the funny with Cain and DG. Just something short to prove that I haven't forgotten about Tin Man, which I know is what most of you have thought. Enjoy my randomness.

Glitch stumbled again for the tenth time. _It probably would be best_, he surmised, _if I put away the scrolls and concentrate on where my feet are going._ He’d exited the side door to his lab, situated in on of the many outbuildings at Finaqua, to enjoy a leisurely stroll in the evening air. Of course, he hadn’t been able to put down the scrolls he’d been studying, outlining the theory of using sunlight to power various machines.

Glitch thought this could be adapted for use on the sedans, instead of relying on normal fuel. And the possibilities for sun-powered farming equipment were unlimited.

He grinned to himself as he thumbed through the pages to some of the drawings he’d rendered the night before, when his newly reunited brain was overflowing with intoxicating ideas. It was heavenly to be able to latch onto a thought, and keep it steady long enough to vet out its possibilities.

“Ow!” He lurched forward again as yet another mislaid stone in the cobblestone path reached up and snagged his toe. “Someone really should repave this thing. A person could break their neck,” he muttered.

Glaring at the offending stone one last time, Glitch ambled onward toward one of the many garages that housed the small fleet of sedans. Wanting to get a head start on the modifications, Glitch had brought his drawings along so that he could look over the car’s engine to see if the energy transfer was even possible. He’d spent many a night tinkering in the garages all by himself.

So, when he heard voices coming from behind the huge wooden door, he paused. Lowering his papers, Glitch inched closer, leaning toward the door.

“I never thought you’d actually agree to do this, Cain.”

_DG?_ Glitch knew she had a way with machinery – she called herself a “grease monkey”, which made Glitch ask if those were any relation to mobats – and on days when she’d conveniently disappear, he would find her outside taking something mechanical apart to see how it worked.

“Yeah well, a person’s gotta try something new every now and then.”

Glitch took a step closer to the door. _So, Cain had followed her out to the garages this time, eh? Not that he doesn’t follow her every where_…Glitch smiled to himself. If the kid could get the prickly lug to loosen up, more power to her.

DG made a sound in her throat. “Mmm…now that’s what I like to hear, big guy.”

Glitch’s face screwed up in confusion.

“First thing you gotta do is loosen up. You could pull something in some of these positions.”

“Uh, you didn’t tell me I’d have to be a contortionist, kiddo.”

“Oh, c’mon Cain. You’ve never been shy before about showing me what you’re made of.”

Glitch’s eyes grew wider and he leaned in even more. There were sounds of bodies moving around; the soft whisper of clothes being dropped on the floor. The papers in the inventor’s hands slipped from slack fingers, falling unnoticed to the ground.

A low rumble, “Okay, Princess, show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Don’t tease. It’s not nice.” More movement, then DG said, “Let me get comfortable here.”

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

Glitch pressed his ear to the wood.

He heard a small gasp, followed by a hissed expletive. “Well _DAY_-um, Cain! I didn’t know it would be _that_ big!”

A chuckle. “What? Never seen one like that, princess?”

“Not where I come from.”

“C’mere,” Cain’s voice was almost subsonic.

Glitch snapped his head back when a trilling female purr echoed through the garage.

“Oh…that’s just…freaking amazing.”

“I aim to please…”

A few groans and more shuffling of bodies. “Whoa there, cowboy. You’re gonna have to give me some room to move.”

“I though you’d done this before,” Cain asked, a little harried sounding.

“Not from this angle. Oh, oh that’s good. That’s perfect…right there.” She made another ecstatic sound and Glitch had to shake his head a few times, as though his brain might be trying to disconnect and slide out of his ears.

For a few moments, only grunting could be heard.

“Well, shit. It’s too big.” She panted.

“Oh, sorry about that. I don’t want to break something.”

Glitch nearly fell over.

“Maybe if I bend my legs…”

“Ohhh…yeah. That most definitely works,” Cain sighed.

“Put your hand here, big guy.”

“It’s slippery.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

“Are you getting tired?”

A giggle. “No. Don’t tell me a big strapping Tin Man like you is wearing out already.”

A feral-sounding laugh from Cain, “Age and experience, darlin’, always wins out.”

“But flexibility helps in the long haul.”

Glitch rubbed at his ears to make sure his hair wasn’t covering them to muffle the sounds.

“Ozma’s stars, kid! How’d you do that? More importantly, how do you plan on walking tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry, Cain. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to help me.”

“Bend your legs, DG, I can’t get to it…”

“If I bend over any more, I’ll be forever known as Pretzel Woman over here…”

“Well, I can’t manage… oh,” Cain sounded like a pressure valve had been released in him. “_Ooooh_ _yeess_. There it is…”

Glitch tugged at his collar. Was it getting hotter outside?

“Like that?” she asked coyly.

“Does a munchkin like to flay things?”

“I’ll take you word on that, buddy.”

More grunting. “DG, don’t pull on it, you’ll break the damn thing.”

“No I won’t. Look, the more I smooth my hands over it, the longer it gets.”

“Mmm…”

Glitch felt his cheeks getting redder. Yep. It was definitely getting hotter outside.

“I need some more lube. My hands are getting dry.”

“Here. You need _that_ much?”

A tinkling feminine laugh. “One can never have enough lube, Cain.”

“Maybe you should rub your little hands all over this…” Cain’s rumbling voice had taken on a whiskey-gravel tone. Glitch wondered if his ear was growing into the wooden door.

“Easy there, big boy. If I lube it too much, it will just hang there all limp and useless.”

“I doubt it. But hey, you’re the expert,” he laughed.

There was the sound of bodies shuffling around, and to Glitch’s utter astonishment, the sound of metal groaning under pressure.

Cain grunted.

“_Holy_…” DG sounded out of breath and in awe, “I have a new nickname for you, Cain. Hulk.”

Another strained sound, before Cain breathed a sigh out, “And what’s that supposed to mean, princess?”

“Means I want to see you chopping wood, _shirtless_ sometime,” DG muttered, and Glitch had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

Cain chuffed out a laugh.

“Oh. Uh-oh. You have something on your pants.” She said.

“Where?”

“On your ass.”

“How can you see my ass in the position that you’re in, DG?”

A sigh. “In the reflection, silly.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be staring at my ass.” There was shy amusement in his voice.

“Right. I’ll be sure and refrain from doing that.” Glitch heard DG mutter under her breath, “Right after I forget how to _see_.”

After a moment, Glitch heard both DG and Cain sound strained. The grunting seemed to be to the rhythm of…something…and Glitch didn’t realize he was pressing into the door with all his weight. A rusty clanging beat in time with the sound of exertion from the Princess and the Tin Man, and Glitch was nearly holding his breath waiting for the climax.

“YES!” They both yelled, just as something metallic snapped and reverberated through the garage.

Heavy breathing. “That was…really…” Cain began.

“Invigorating,” DG finished between pants.

Glitch lost his balance at that moment, and practically fell through the wooden bay door, sprawling on the pressed earth of the garage floor.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he yelped, covering his eyes with one hand. “I didn’t see anything. I was just passing by, I swear! No, don’t get up…I’m fine. And I’m leaving…”

“Glitch? What’s your malfunction?” He heard DG ask quizzically.

_They weren’t mad? They were scrambling for cover or trying to find their clothes_…? Cautiously, Glitch peeked through his hand, only to pull it completely away to meet the confused face of his princess, and the wry smirk of the Tin Man.

DG and Cain had been bent over, head and torso deep into a sedan’s engine. Cain had his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows; grease and grim coating his hands.

DG stood up holding the biggest wrench Glitch had ever seen; her eyes wide and innocent.

Glitch looked between the two of them, one finger going back and forth as he tried to work out when he’d heard with what he saw right then. Cain’s smirk grew wider.

He scratched his head. “But…okay. I don’t get it.”

“What else is new,” Cain said sarcastically, as he ever-so-indelicately shoved the former advisor out of the garage and shut the door. “Three’s a crowd, Zipperhead. Go find your own garage.”

Glitch heard the two laughing as he walked away, continuing to scratch his head.

Maybe he just misheard…

**-END-**


	4. Word Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of 50 word prompts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I didn't think these 50 prompts things would be so addicting, but thanks to the splendiferous Celia Stanton, I've have caught the bug. Unending gratitude to Celia Stanton (even though she cursed me continuously in her comments) and to Spikes Sweetie for the betas here.

**1.– Crave**

The moment he realizes that he craves the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, those damned bear-hugs that leave him warm and tingling all over, Wyatt Cain finds himself completely open, vulnerable…and he doesn’t give a damn anymore.

**2.– None**

She’s the only one who accepts that all the family bonding, trips down memory lane, and all the feigned professions of forgiveness are worthless; none of it matters, because she gave up long ago.

**3.– Glue**

Glitch’s wide-eyed optimism may have been annoying – even frustrating at times – but even the stolid Cain has to admit that it was probably the glue that kept the trio from flying apart in the end.

**4.– Wet**

He’d never found apples erotic fruits until he watched her take a bite, suckle the juice from the rosy flesh, and run her tongue down her fingers to capture every drop of the wet, sweet goodness – after which he made a note to ensure the royal pantry would be stocked full of them from then on.

**5.– Frame**

_It isn’t fair_, Glitch thinks_, that a lifetime of memories mock me from behind that_ _oversized picture frame hanging in that frigid, old palace._

**6.– Instant**

It takes but merely an instant for hopes to soar toward heaven, then upon seeing a name etched into an old wooden marker, find them gutted in ruin on the ground.

**7.– Hold**

In order to survive his tin tomb, he held onto revenge; now, because of her, he’ll hold onto faith.

**8.– Fish**

Anywhere else, catching a fish with four eyes and six sets of fins would be a sure sign that fishing at Chernobyl is a no-no; yet in the Zone, it’s good eat’n.

**9.– Don’t**

She hears him utter “Don’t” the first time she touches his face, his neck, his body, but it is behind the frigid blue of his eyes that she sees the implicit yearning, and she understands that his mouth and his heart don’t always work in unison.

**10\. – Ego**

The first time a younger guard outshoots him, DG can clearly see that behind the quiet humility of the Tin Man, there is an ego in there somewhere that just got bruised.

**11\. – Flow**

The land finds its flow again – the gentle ebb and surge of life and renewal that will ultimately wash away the patina of evil – but Az can’t help but feel like she’s trapped in an eddy, forever swirling in limbo while the world moves on without her.

**12\. – Dream**

He finds himself standing in her room, watching her sleep, trying to rid himself of the nightmare that plagues him: that she’ll eventually want to go where he can’t follow.

**13\. **– **Action**

There are men of action, men of deed, and men of substance; but rarely do the three culminate in such a broken vessel, bearing a tiny tin star on his chest.

**14\. – Enough**

Eventually, he surrenders to the idea that loving her is always going to be too much, and never enough.

**15.– Green**

Every time a Ball rolls around – with insufferable know-it-alls, damned dress uniforms and far too little alcohol – he is forced to watch younger, more available men sweep the princess off her feet; while more than one person has been intimidated by his fierce blue eyes at those goddamned functions, Glitch calmly observes, “Actually, I think they’re turning a little green.”

**16\. – Metaphor **

Men throughout the ages have _tried_ to be many things: heroic, loyal, self-sacrificing, a leader - Wyatt Cain just _is_ all of the above.

17.– **Teach**

DG can learn the lessons, and memorize the right words, but she knows no one will be able to teach her how to _feel_ like a leader… and that keeps her up most nights.

**18\. – Demand**

She knows she shouldn’t demand any more of him; after all, _love_, even in this dilapidated form, is _love_ all the same, and for now she’ll take what she can get.

**19.– Inspire**

Cain is dumbfounded at how she could not realize the true amount of change she’s inspired in those few, short days together: a Head-case into a brilliant advisor; a cowardly Viewer into an steadfast touchstone of humanity; a damaged shell into something resembling the Tin Man he remembers, with the strength of _her_ convictions.

**20\. **– **Unrequited**

Her love for him is _not_ patient or kind, and it envies a ghost from his past every time she sees that ring on his finger; hers is a love that lies unrequited.

**21\. – Classic**

She can’t help but grin in wistful nostalgia every time she sees a Central City sedan, and wants nothing more than to restore it to the original World War I era classic.

**22\. – Far**

Far is the distance Az would like to run to get away from her memories; forever is how long it will be before she forgets them.

**23\. – May**

She forgets proper etiquette and grammar, and after the nth time of being corrected by either her mother or Tutor, DG really wants to ask, “Okay, _**may**_ I strangle you with my bare hands?”

**24.– Breadth**

There is something incredibly sexy about a man with broad shoulders; even more so when you are staring at the breadth of those bare, muscular shoulders hovering over you, covered in sweat and passion from the occasional ‘nooner’ in someone’s royal office.

**25\. – Wrench**

She’d love to wrench his head off his shoulders when she states that she’s setting out to save the world again, and he looks around for a moment, returns with a smirk and hands her a fucking stick.

**26\. – Hope**

Glitch seems to have enough hope to sustain them all, but secretly he’s just as terrified as the rest of them that the suns might not rise the next morning.

**27.– Scent**

He blushes like a school boy when DG informs him that ‘_sexy’_ does, in fact, have a scent.

**28\. – Pastel**

On cool, clear mornings – when the skies are a soft shade of pastel purple mixed in stormy sea-blue – DG misses her drawing supplies, her room and her old life so badly it hurts to breathe.

**29\. – Artist**

Cain has called Glitch a freak, Head-case, wacko, and zipper-head, but when he’s fine-tuning a complex invention into perfection, all DG sees is the artist.

**30.– Sorrow**

Sorrow takes on many forms, many shades and hues – the sight of a log cabin that brings back a long forgotten memory, or the look on a father’s face when a son walks way with a doubtful expression – and DG has seen them all within his depthless eyes.

31.– **Path**

The Old Road is a metaphor for her life: broken, full of potholes, missing important pieces; a worn example of the path that connects her past to her future that must be traveled.

**32.– Wood**

It irks him that he doesn’t know why she snickers maliciously every time he mentions having to tend to the wood in the morning.

**33.– Acceptance**

She’s not there yet, but eventually DG will have to play the hand she’s been dealt, and Cain fervently prays that she’ll quit asking to reshuffle the deck.

**34.– Yet**

One day, he’ll be ready to put away his guilt along with his wedding band, but not yet.

**35.– Shiver**

He actually feels a shiver snake down his spine when he sees her standing regally at the top of the dais, every inch of her exuding the brave woman who’d snagged his heart somewhere along the Old Road, and he wonders how he ever called her ‘kiddo’.

**36.– Hero**

While reading through a book in the library, DG skims over the words defining ‘hero’ (distinguished courage and ability, admired for brave deeds and noble qualities) and is overcome with the need to scribble in the margin next to the word: _Example: See Wyatt Cain._

**37\. – Body**

He was achingly aware that ‘kid’ was the stupidest nickname he’d ever come up with when she pressed her body flush against his as the waltz languidly began in the background.

**38\. – Man**

The man standing before him, with cool eyes and a wall ten feet high built around his emotions, had murdered the little boy in his mind’s eye; all the awkward hugs and false platitudes about ‘having heart’ weren’t going to change that.

**39\. – Pretend**

Wearing the new clothes, going to the functions, smiling at all the right times are meaningless; she’s only _pretending_ to live anyway.

**40\. – Curious**

After an experiment nearly blew him through his lab’s wall, DG had told him that curiosity killed the cat – and he promptly and predictably replied with, “What cat?”

**41.– Different**

All the silk in the Zone, all the jewels in the land and all the training under the stars wouldn’t hide that fact that she was so astoundingly and flagrantly different…and he wouldn’t have her any other way.

**42.– Smooth**

Smooth, as DG explained, was not knowing what the hell you were doing, but faking it in such a way so that others wouldn’t know any different.

**43.– Right**

She’d been right when she stated with such conviction that he wasn’t a killer, but she’d been wholly wrong when she’d said that she couldn’t imagine anything in the world scaring him; opening his heart again was proving to be a terrifying experience.

**44.– Damn**

He’d called her a fool and she’d damned him for being cruel and heartless, but what she didn’t know was that if she truly wanted to curse Wyatt Cain, all she’d have to do is say three little words: _Don’t come back_.

**45.– Desire**

His desire was so profound that he was terrified he’d hurt her – scare her away with his need – but only when she bit into his shoulder, thrusting her hips into his groin and breathed “You won’t break me,” did he truly realize the heights his passion could soar when turned loose.

**46.– Ritual**

The two sisters spend one evening a week sitting beside the great lake, shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped together, and though he thinks they don’t actually speak, it’s one ritual he’d never intrude upon.

**47.– Color**

His eyes aren’t simply blue: they sparkle with this humor, grow dark with anger, warm with passion, and fade in despair; no rainbow on either Side could adequately capture all different blues in his eyes.

**48.– Visit**

From the desperation in his eyes, she figures that Cain already knows what she can’t admit out loud: if she goes back for even a visit, she’ll probably never return.

**49.– Belong**

There is nothing in the world as hard as trying to belong in a place or in a group, but allowing yourself to _belong_ to someone else is the greatest challenge to an independent soul.

**50.– Bully**

Glitch probably thinks Cain’s harsh words and biting retorts are nothing but bullying behavior, but DG knows that’s just Cain’s way of showing affection for one he doesn’t always ‘get’.


	5. Semantics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 50 word prompts part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is 50 prompts plus One. 51 struck later and had to be added. Thanks as always to Celia Stanton and SpikesSweetie! Enjoy!

**1.– Civilization**

War touches every civilization, she realizes, and it’s always ugly no matter what side of the rainbow you’re on.

**2.– Sink**

Az never says “It could be worse” anymore; she knows better than anyone how far one can sink, and that if it can get worse, it usually will.

**3.– Bullet**

His body had been rent by bullets plenty of times, but her faith in him pierced his soul and tore it asunder.

**4.– Count**

DG can count on one hand the number of times Az has actually pulled the cork on her bottled-up emotions, and the aftermath was never pretty.

**5.– Mental**

Cain used to think of relationships as mental games like chess – move, countermove – but when he met DG, it became purely a game of chance.

**6\. – Blaze**

Az stares into the fire, wondering if she sticks her hand into the blaze – will she finally _feel_ again.

**7\. – Thought**

She’s heard of the “deed well done and the thought well spoken,” and has come to the realization that she will probably accomplish neither.

**8\. – Jealous**

He’s much too old to feel like this and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the uncomfortable flip-flop his stomach is doing – while a young soldier continues to compliment the princess – is certainly coming from the morning’s stale coffee.

**9\. – Doll**

She hates diminutives, but every time Glitch calls her ‘doll,’ it seems to settle her nerves and make her think that she may just belong here after all.

**10\. – Farewell**

Deep down in their processors, Hank and Emily always understood that the day they’d have to let her go, would be the day she’d have to bid farewell to everything she knew.

**11\. – Story**

She’d never start the story of her life with ‘once upon a time’; more likely, she’d begin with something like, “My so-called, freak-show life has a mantra: beware of tornadoes.”

**12\. – Serpent**

The serpent kiss of the sorceress both terrified and aroused him, and Zero could never tear his eyes away from the sight.

**13\. – Prey**

The old witch wasn’t sure which of the young princesses would become her prey; the stench of fear clung to them both equally.

**14\. – Friend **

Underneath the mop of tousled hair, the zipper and the blank looks, Lavender Eyes could still see the old friend whose counsel she’d sought above all others.

**15\. – Still**

Feeling too much always had its drawbacks, and Raw often found himself wishing he could travel to a place where the pain, fear, and evil of the world wouldn’t follow; where he could revel in the stillness.

**16\. – Exhausted**

He never seemed to sleep and DG wondered how truly exhausted Cain must be; every time she awoke, she’d find him quietly watching over her.

**17\. – Bold**

She protested that boldness galvanized her into rushing to his aid back at the old cabin; he’d simply stated that stupidity brings a _stick_ to a _gunfight_.

**18\. – Attraction**

Age and experience can lend themselves to a deepening insight into subtle human behavior, but when Jeb watches the way his father is around the youngest princess, he knows some things are just _too_ obvious.

**19\. – Will**

Az watches DG stand toe-to-toe with the Tin Man, matching his ire and volume word-for-word, and she knows that there is at least one thing in the O.Z. that will never to bend to his formidable will.

**20\. – Bed**

Her enormous bed was never comfortable until her soft, down pillow was replaced by the firm muscles of his bare chest, and his heartbeat under her ear became a lullaby.

**21\. – Joy**

Joy can have a bitter aftertaste when the little boy you remember looks at you from behind a man’s eyes – foreign, suspicious and nearly unapproachable.

**22\. – Test**

If loving were a test, he’d need only to see the disappointment and pain in her eyes the moment he rode away to know that he’d failed miserably.

**23\. – Gentle**

She’d seen his calloused, strong hands do many things: break jaws, work wood into beautiful pieces or art, fire a weapon to kill; but always, with her, his hands are tentative, slow and gentle.

**24\. – Hunger**

With one look, across a room or held tight in his embrace, she can ignite a hunger in him that no food could sate.

**25\. – Absence**

When his heart is shut off, she mourns his absence – even when he’s standing by her side.

**26\. – Maze**

Sometimes, DG feels like there aren’t enough flares or breadcrumbs in the Zone to help her navigate Glitch’s maze-like logic.

**27\. – Close**

She wants to be close to her sister once again, but achieving that has been an uphill battle when Az has been slowly pulling away for so long.

**28\. – Reign**

When DG points out, rather harshly, that the Queen’s reign was hardly anything she’d like to emulate – in fact, she’d rather avoid the process all together – she knows she’s hurt her mother; but one look at her broken sister and DG finds that she doesn’t care.

**29\. – Crush**

He thought her feelings were simply adolescent – girls her age shouldn’t have a crush on a man as old and tarnished as him – until she kissed him that day, lighting a fire that burned him from the inside out.

**30\. – Run**

If she runs, he’ll follow – if he feels he needs to leave, she’ll have to love him enough to let him go.

**31\. – Art**

During a self-defense class, Glitch says there is art in movement, but DG replies that there is pain in falling on one’s ass in the process.

**32\. – Pressure**

The truth was, the Mystic Man used the Vapors to escape the pressure of knowing too much, seeing too many bad things, and realizing he could do absolutely _nothing_ about any of it.

**33.– Echo**

When Azkadellia looks in a mirror, all she sees is an echo of her former self.

**34\. – Heal**

Raw thinks that if he were a true Healer, he’d be able to mend DG’s broken heart –some breaks are just too complicated.

**35\. – Clear **

Jeb’s future was clear once, his path laid out and his objective simple; he hates his father for muddying the waters with morality.

**36\. – No**

Two simple letters that no one in the entire O.Z. seems to understand, especially those who keep talking of things like ‘taking the throne’ and ‘eventual rule’.

**37\. – Fight**

His hand goes up to touch his reddened cheek, while hers falls limply to her side – still stinging from force of the slap – and for a moment, they stand in stunned silence trying to figure out how the fight began in the first place.

**38\. – Rend**

There are two types of war: in one, arrows can pierce – in the other, only words can rend.

**39\. – Upset**

Over the annuals, there have always been Slippers – each one upsetting the balance of the Zone, and each one creating ripples of change that forever expand through the folds of time.

**40\. – Sight**

Raw could never understand how some men can be so outwardly courageous, and yet be terrified to attempt see things with their heart.

**41\. – Wind**

His heart breaks a little every time the wind picks up, and he sees her looking wistfully toward the skies, as though she were hoping for another storm to whisk her back to her real life.

**42\. – Devil**

Praying to God didn’t work when he was sealed in that tin suit – this time, he’ll make a deal with the Devil to keep her safe from harm.

**43\. – Pulse**

Pulses quicken, bodies thrust against each other, senses leap into overdrive and then suddenly, in one blinding moment, she thinks Heaven must be burning, because experiencing that amount of pleasure has got to be the best kind of sin.

**44\. – Beast**

The sorceress wore her inner demon out in the open for all to see, but Zero was much more frightening – a beast hiding beneath the manipulative smile of a normal looking face.

**45\. – Code**

It’s hard to keep your code – the mandates you use to govern your life in order to survive – when a frustrating whiff of a girl saunters in and re-writes all the rules.

**46\. – Missing**

He told her once that she’d helped him find his heart; she told him that it had never been missing in the first place.

**47\. – Warning**

On days when his personal signage reads ‘Look but don’t touch’ – she heeds the warning, and waits patiently for him to come to her when he’s ready.

**48\. – Mask**

Az wishes the Witch would have twisted her outward features into ugliness; at least then perhaps, someone might have seen the signs in time to save her.

**49\. – If **

_If_ she’d never jumped off that roof into the storm, _then_ she’d probably still have a normal life – but then, she realizes with some distain, her life was never normal to begin with.

**50\. – Empty**

Cain has never had the balls to admit that he understands Azkadellia more than most realize: they both are empty vessels, and with DG’s help, maybe someday they’ll both be whole.

**51\. – Hair**

She was Delilah to his Samson; his hair was cut, his heart wrest open, and he could do little more than lie penitent, weak at her feet.


End file.
